Street Battles

Street Battles by Bob Moore © 2019 I remember when I was a kid dustbins were tin, and they had a tin lid it made a great shield, when we went off to war to fight the gangs, in the suburbs next door We had wooden sticks, and we called them a sword we threw rocks and stones, and our battle cry roared but hardly a bone, ever got broke and at the end of the day, it was all a big joke We’ll be back tommora’ we’d yell as we went they yelled, “we’ll be waiting”, and a rock our way sent Nobody won our battles and fights But we had to get home, ‘fore they turned on the lights.